By Dan Schneider Jun 7, 2007, 21:30 GMT
Her pelvis rested on the radiator. Outsideof her apartment window, as Wanda watched inside,the autumn twilight gathered stealthfully,on the ground, a whirl of leaves harvestedfrom elsewhere. Wanda noticed. It seemed as if a malevolence was behind it,momentarily, battering the column of leavesagainst the steely filter of schoolyard fence.In the city it was rare for natureto make itself known. This was natural. As if a living thing, the burl of leavesretreated from the fence and blew into the alleyby Rosen's BIG Little Store, and seemed to coverold Grady as he slept next to the greendumpster, as if a swarm of bees drawnto the honeyed chin of a man trying to forma beard- something she had seen once or twiceon a t.v. show. The evening darkened. The leaves took off, backed out of the alleyand slithered across this near-desolate streetin p.m. Bushwick and into the community poolswimming with green algae from three weeks of disuse,where only Wanda watched, or could. As the leaves seemed to find their end in the watera sudden ray of light broke over Manhattanand into the swimming pool, agitating what seemedto have been an end into a bright beginning. Waves bobbed and crashed from end-to-endand rose up- nearly sexual- to form a columnof unrippled being, one with the unlivingwater and detritus in light, and the hovering night. In this moment Wanda was agog. With her brotherstill at school and her parents at work, no oneor no thing could have prepared her for this.The shadows lengthened, and Grady slept,and the column took unusual shape. Indrawn about its middle formed a waist, a pelvis,and lower- the legs of a woman, and upwards-the breasts, shoulders and face of light;the dead leaves now the burn of her hairswaying in the breeze and shaft of light,mere moments ago unrealized, unknown. As a second passed, Wanda grew fearful, hidbehind her curtains, instinctively as the leavesdid their whirl, yet ever peering, drawn to the beautyshe deemed all in her head. She knew she would one day be a writer, an artist, or explorer of things beyond the pale. Her vision would lead her. As she peeked, the water-being- with eyes transparentas tomorrow, caught hold of its voyeur. Its smileuplifted, from its gaze arced upward,the courage and the wonder of the child. Slowly drawing upward, the water-woman became a columnand rose three stories, one with the sun-light and over the roof of the decaying tenement (closed since Mr. Millstein, the super, died in May)to reform herself and head for the flowerboxes, neglectedfor months, and nearing death. A second second passed. Under a younger eye the new being, suddenly seeming beyondany call of years, whispered, "You are the reason for all of this.",and poured herself into the boxes, especially the sunflowers.All that was left on the cool tarpaper roof was a coiffeof leaves and several wet footprints. Another second passed. Wanda withdrew into her reality as the minutes gave wayto her family's return, and on things went. The days grew colder,and Grady occasionally moved, as Wanda spent afternoonsby the window. The pool was soon covered. The rooftop remained.The flowers lived no longer than they should have, not eventhe sunflowers could lift their gaze, and the sun came and went. Soon, Wanda came to realize her inward boredom as the causeof her delusion, and resolved to never give in again. But lightning need only be singular. An industriousness seized the girl and never let go,all through the years of work and marriage, motherhoodand reflection; all the influence of an outward thing. And one spring morning, in her eighty-eighth year,Wanda- just weeks into retirement- found herselfin the country, walking arm-in-arm with her teenaged grandsonpast a cottage and its windowbox, apparently untendedfor weeks or months, and drew close to its weeded interior-a small sunflower alone to its doom- and smiled,as the flower bent backward in her breath,and whispered, "You are the reason for all of this.",and spat as much of herself, as an old woman could,into its box, then turned to her puzzled grandsonand lifted a smile as they continued their walk. And, now, the sunflower lifts its gaze to you.
-- www.Cosmoetica.comCosmoetica: The Best In Poeticawww.Cosmoetica.com/Cinemension.htmCinemension: Film's Extra Dimension
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